Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

I make sure to wear a sundress with a light floral print as my mother has always taught me to do when attending brunch at The Club. My hair done just "so" and makeup applied in a simplistic style. I hate that I have to do these things to keep my mother happy, but it's better than the consequences. The tutting under her breath. The tsking. The looks of disapproval that can't be mistaken. All the things that make me feel less than.

As the valet opens my door, I wish I didn't have to face the momster alone. The only other way to face her would be with Rome by my side and that is so not happening. That would be worse than the alternative.

"Miss Miller," Mr. Blake, I return to the man who greets me personally every time I arrive. I take his hand in greeting. "Mrs. Montgomery and her guest have already arrived."

I let out a huff. "I'm ten minutes early."

He smiles sympathetically.

I straighten my posture and suck it up. This brunch can't end until it's gotten started.

"I'm ready," I tell Mr. Blake who begins to lead me through the dining area. I wonder who this mystery guest is. I know it's not Mr. Montgomery because he's in Europe on business per the gossip.

When we round the corner I see exactly who the mystery guest is and suck in a breath, not quite a gasp but close. It turns out it is Mr. Montgomery, just not the one I was thinking of. It's Timothy Montgomery, my step-brother aka Satan. Lord, give me strength. This is not something I prepared for. I should've known better.

"Well, there she is," Satan says, stating the obvious.

I ignore him and greet my mother with a smile. "Mother."

"Bethany, you look lovely, dear," my mother says with a fake smile and faux kisses to each cheek. The fact that we're dressed and accessorized nearly identical makes me feel matronly and old despite the fact even the little girls are wearing the same.

"You as well," I return, waiting for what's next. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it won't be fun.

The server puts a glass of ice water as well as a mimosa in front of me. I never drink alcohol in front of my mother. I think she orders it to tempt me into doing the very thing she chastises me for.

"I'll have a vanilla latte and a diet cola, please."

"You and that diet stuff. You know it's not good for your health." Here's where I'll start counting. Number one.

"I don't indulge in much, Mother, so allow me this, would you?" I ask.

Tim scoffs.

Here we go.

"Something to say?"

He sips his mimosa and stares at me over the rim of the glass. "Plenty."

"Timothy, at least wait until we've ordered," mom scolds.

"If we get it out of the way now, then it'll be before we order and abandon our food," I try.

The server brings my drinks and scurries off at my mother's stare. It really is quite something to see.

"Fine. Let's get this business out of the way. I've been looking forward to the special," mother states.

"Alright," I agree, taking a long sip of my latte.

Timmy leans forward. "I was going for a run yesterday morning when I came across your corpse on Kinkaid's chaise on the beach."

I sip again then lift a brow. "And?"

My mother tsks under her breath. She hates the brow raise. Claims it's unladylike.

"And," Tim continues, "You reeked of liquor."

I recoil. "Did you come up and sniff me while I was asleep? Because that's not creepy at all."

"I was making sure you were alive."

I roll my eyes. "Like you care. You're only concerned because in a short time you may lose out on inheriting any of the money that isn't rightfully yours to claim."

"Bethany," Mother scolds.

"What? It's true. My father earned that money and that has nothing at all to do with the Montgomerys… other than them being free loaders," I scathe.

Mother huffs.

"Excuse me, Mother, I didn't mean to include your husband in that as he's a damn hard worker unlike Timmy here who does nothing but sit in the sun so much he's got premature wrinkling even your plastic surgeon can't counter," I add.

He hates being called Timmy and his face gets beet red.

I take another casual sip of my latte. That's when I see him across the room. In the background is my mother's voice along with Timmy's likely scolding me for speaking up and stating obvious facts, but I can't hear it. Everything becomes a buzzing hum.

He's leaning on the bar sipping a glass of orange juice. His black suit, white shirt, and tie immaculate. Rome in his football uniform will have a woman panting. Rome in a suit with his hair styled neatly is a whole other level. If it were possible, I'd slide to the floor in a puddle of raging hormones. In this moment, I feel as if I did the other night at dinner with Cal. Seeing Rome across the room. Him watching only her, even when the hottest of women tried—with great skill—to hit on him. He only stared at me. No matter what I did, I felt those deep brown eyes on every inch of my skin like a caress.

Only today that feeling doesn't confuse me. Was it only two nights ago he aroused me with just a glance to the point I tried to drink the edge off?

But not today. No, today I meet his gaze head on, not looking away as he sets down his glass and, with more grace than a wide receiver should have, makes his way toward our table.

I feel compelled to stand. I don't understand it. I just know there's something happening that requires my dedication and devotion, maybe even submission.

Without words, he leans in, cups my cheek in his hand, and presses his lips to mine in a not-very-chaste kiss. My mother clears her throat loudly.

Rome pulls back but my brain is scrambled. Roman Kinkaid just kissed me. For the first time ever. In front of my mother and step-brother. In front of the entire restaurant. There'll be a photo of this on the internet within the hour.

"Good morning, Mrs. Montgomery. Monty," Rome greets as he helps me in my chair then takes the one next to me.

"You know I hate that nickname," Timothy bites out.

"I would call you dickhead but I know how much Mrs. M dislikes that," Rome taunts.

"Asshole," Tim fumes.

Mother hits his chest. "Mind your manners, Timothy, or leave the table."

Again, his face turns that same shade of enraged red. I live for moments like this.

"Roman, it's always a pleasure to see you," Mother greets. "We weren't expecting you."

Rome unfolds his napkin and rests it over his lap. "I thought I'd surprise you."

"You certainly did," I croak.

He rests his arm behind me on my chair, pulling me in close to his side. This close to him I can feel his heat. Rome's not a cologne kinda guy but he smells amazing. Whatever soap or body wash he uses blends well with his personal musk. If my mother wasn't sitting there eyeing us so thoroughly, I'd lean in and take a big long whiff.

"To what do we owe this pleasure?" Timothy asks.

"My fiancée having brunch with her family isn't enough?"

My mother coughs over her sip of mimosa. "Fiancée? When did this take place?"

I try very hard not to tense up. He just said… yep. He said it. I lean into his neck and whisper, "What are you doing?"

He merely kisses the top of my head.

"I don't see a ring," Timmy points out.

I send him a glare.

"It's being fitted," Rome replies. "You know Beth has small fingers."

"This is nothing but a stunt to get her inheritance," Timmy tells my mother.

"You wanted us married," I reply.

"Babe," Rome says with an unusually soft tone, "I've got this."

Panties melting right off. I nod.

"This is no stunt, I assure you Mrs. M. It may have taken a while for us to get here, but here we are."

Mother eyes him. "You didn't leave much time to plan the wedding."

"I guess I didn't," Rome replies with a smirk. "I was thinking we could do a small, intimate wedding now and then we can plan the big flashy one you've always dreamed Beth of having."

I hold my breath. Wow. He's really thought this out. It would have been nice to have been included in those thoughts. I mean, just two days ago I was "Miller" and our conversation was filled with snark.

Rome looks to me. "That is, if that's okay with Beth."

Is that okay with me? Do I want to marry someone who two days ago I thought hated me? Is this just a game to him? If it's a game, I'll find a way to piece my heart back together. If it's not, then it'll mean happily ever after. But what about Callum? I love him, too.

Rome leans in to whisper, "No games and Cal is on board."

I lean back slowly, not giving mom anything. "Really?"

Rome rests his forehead against mine, his lips touching mine as he speaks. "Really."

"Yes. That sounds perfect," I murmur.

Mother claps her hands once. "This is marvelous. We have so much planning to do. I have so many calls to make."

Nothing about being happy for me in there. Just all about the pomp and circumstance surrounding a large wedding that will bring her the attention she craves.

"Why was Beth sleeping on your chaise?" Timmy asks with attitude.

Rome leans back. "Not that it's any of your business, but when she has insomnia, she finds the peace and calm she needs from the fresh ocean air and the sounds of the waves."

Timmy scoffs. "It's not very safe."

"We've never had any problems with anyone bothering her while she sleeps until now. I'll be sure to let Shep out to guard her from now on," Rome replies, referring to his 150 pound German Shepherd.

"Can we eat now?" I ask. "I'm starving."